


The Fire and The Rose

by vulpeculavolans



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, and i need to analyse all of it to death, do you hear me taliesin these are SIMPLE WANTS, followed by me thinking "hey what if it was SAD", ft. a weirdly long paragraph where I just talk about molly’s various accoutrements, in that order, listen i need to know what molly deems important enough to keep in a "travel light" lifestyle, this is result of me thinking "hey what if molly didn't participate in the HOH but caleb did"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpeculavolans/pseuds/vulpeculavolans
Summary: Caleb gets rather drunk and stumbles into Mollymauk's bedroom.





	The Fire and The Rose

It was late, and Caleb was very,  _ very _ drunk.

He had stumbled from room to room in a stupor for a good fifteen minutes, trying to fit his key into most he came across, before he gave up and slid to a sit in the hallway of the Blushing Tankard. He sat with book in hand, though he wasn’t really reading it. Instead, he hummed to himself.

“The mighty nein, the mighty nein, the mighty nein are the mightiest ne-in,” he mumbled, rolling his head back again the cool wood of a door behind his head. He went on like that, adding new verses in Zemnian here and there. Maybe there were a few about Molly, maybe there weren’t.  _ Nobody speaks Zemnian, which means nobody can prove it in a court of law, _ Caleb thought to himself, puffing out his chest at his ingenuity. Gods, he was clever.

He was still patting himself on the back when the world fell out from behind him.

Caleb landed on carpet with a heavy thunk, and the sudden way the world sprawled in his vision nearly cost him a reappearance of his beer. Oof. Maybe that contest had been a bad idea.

As he wrenched open his eyelids again, he saw a very amused-looking Mollymauk standing over him.

“Well! Hello, Mister Caleb,” he said, and flashed all those sharp teeth in Caleb’s direction with a grin. Caleb grinned back. “Hell-o, Mister Mollymauk,” he said, halfheartedly reaching out one hand to give Molly’s ankle a friendly pat. 

Molly laughed. Caleb thought it sounded beautiful.

“Oh, you’re very drunk, aren’t you?”

“Mmm. I don’t… know.” Caleb said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Am I?”

“Oof. Yeah. Alrighty, up you get,” Molly said, and then he was grabbing Caleb’s hands. Caleb went easily, stumbling a little as he got to his feet. Molly steadied him, a hand on each of Caleb’s biceps. Caleb raised a hand to Molly’s wrist and petted it. All just to make sure he remained standing, of course. Molly snorted.

“So you’re a handsy drunk. Good to know,” Molly said airily, removing his hands from Caleb’s arms. The tops of Caleb’s ears went red. Oh dear. Molly had found out about his ulterior motives.

“Entschuldigung.”

“Gazundheit.”

Caleb frowned. “That’s not Zemnian,” he said - or rather, tried to say, since his tongue was so heavy. “Zemnian” came out more like “Zumnun”. He tried not to call attention to it. Molly noticed regardless.

“Yeah, alright. I think we need to get some water in you at least. In you come,” he said, stepping back into his room and swinging the door open a little further.

Caleb stepped inside, and at the sight of Mollymauk’s bed all covered in carnival silks, Caleb suddenly felt very tired. He must have looked a little too longing, because Molly steered him toward the fireplace with a firm grip. “You are not going anywhere near my bed until we get that coat off you, at the very least. It’s  _ filthy _ .” Caleb couldn’t see Molly’s face, but he could hear the way his nose wrinkled. He shrugged. That was fair.

Molly plopped him down in front of the fire, and then went to his bag, rifling around in it. Caleb watched the fire for what felt like a good, long while. Molly was humming - something about princes and boats - but it barely registered. Caleb was busy watching the flames.

When Molly returned, he had his waterskin in one hand. “Here. You should drink something.”

Caleb’s mind felt strange, like someone had taken a book away from him while he was halfway through a sentence - half of his mind still somewhere else.

He accepted the waterskin silently and drank from it, then hummed - his best estimation at gratitude in his current state. He drew one knee up to his chest, back to staring at the flames. He felt, rather than saw, Molly take a place next to him.

Given Molly’s years in a travelling circus, Caleb supposed it made sense that he could make a place feel like home in such a short amount of time. Still, it shocked him a little; his coat, silken and colourful, was draped over the doorknob, little bottles of oils and potions lined up on the meagre desk he had been provided with. Molly’s simple cotton handkerchiefs poked out of the drawer on the bedside table underneath Molly’s jewellery, which was deposited in a neat little pile on the tabletop. Caleb thought it looked like a tiny dragon’s hoard. The room smelled like him, too. Lavender and lemongrass, without the humanising tinge of stale sweat that Caleb noticed when they sat up together on watch. 

All in all, it was the utter antithesis of the room Caleb shared with Nott. Theirs was a simple room; books piled knee-high all around, with Nott’s winnings from that day strewn over whatever desk space was available. Usually Nott’s mask would be looped over the collar of Caleb's jacket on the bedpost, trailing onto the dirty floor of whatever hovel they were staying in. 

Caleb suddenly felt embarrassed. What was he doing? He should get up, head back to his own room, not sit around in here taking up Molly’s space like some drunken fool. He pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders.

“Fire does something to you,” Molly said, breaking the silence. Caleb smiled without humour.

“You noticed.” He replied. Not a question; a statement of fact.

Molly hummed an affirmative. “I have a nose for these things.”

“Or just eyes,” Caleb quipped.

Molly’s face was calculated when Caleb turned to look at him. His gaze was searching. Those red eyes pierced Caleb, made him feel like he was standing on a cliff’s edge between comfortable and desperately uncomfortable. He broke his gaze, veering toward the latter in the way he so often did.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Caleb scoffed. “No, danke.”

“Alright. Well, you know. If you need to… you know where I am. I’ve…” Molly trailed off, his own eyes turning to the fireplace. His face was stony.

"You’ve?”

Molly cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just, you know. I’ve, uh, seen some shit, with the circus. So, no judgement.”

“Ja. I’ll keep that in mind, Mollymauk.” Caleb winced internally at how cold he sounded. He stood, stumbling a little at the way his head spun at the change in altitude. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. “Well, I’d best get back to Nott before she starts to worry. She gets, ah, antsy. When I’m not around.”

“Sure. Go sleep it off,” Molly said, and he had that grin on his face again, but it didn’t crease his eyes this time. Caleb nodded, and when Molly rose to see him out, he didn’t stop him.  
  
Caleb left the room, and heard the door close behind him with a soft, definitive  _ click _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from T.S. Eliot's "Little Gidding"
> 
> Find me on Tumblr and yell at me about Critical Role and/or various podcasts: prettyjuno


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